Arthur and Molly's Legacies
by Kat Ducat
Summary: A collection of seven one-shots/drabbles about the seven Weasley children, all written for the Magic Number Competition. So far: Chap 1: Ginny & Lily Luna, Chap 2: Ron/Hermione & Rose, Chap 3: Fred, Chap 4: Percy, Chap 5: Charlie & dragon, Chap 6: George & Fred, (chapter 7 has been moved)
1. We'll See

_A/N: Apart from the Magic Number Competition (we'll see), this was written for the Family Boot Camp (chosen) and the Character Trait! Boot Camp (obsessive!Lily). The challenge is to write one-shots/drabbles about each of the seven Weasley children. _

_Enjoy!_

)O(

"Mum! Look at this!" A tiny girl freed herself from the crowd of people and rocketed over to a cage inhabited by only slightly more tiny creatures. Even as they'd stepped through the door, Ginny had had a horrible feeling that this trip to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a mistake.

"Honey, we can't stay long. You have fun while I go talk to your uncle George, ok?" Ginny sighed. After Lily had behaved so well on their all-day shopping trip, she felt that the girl needed a reward to make up for it. The joke shop had been a natural first choice, mainly because Lily treated it as a sort of temple to everything good. Who could blame her? The place had everything a twelve-year old could ever want.

Lily nodded, feeling slightly hard done by. As a Healer, her mother was always busy, too busy to do anything with her for the simple sake of having fun. She looked back at the cage and felt her mood lift. The pink and purple puffy creatures inside it were bobbing around happily. Just looking at them brought a smile to her face. Lily put a finger into the metal bars separating the creatures from the outside world and cooed at them, wiggling her finger as if it was a worm. One of the more colourful puffs hopped away from playing a game of what looked like catch with his friends and fixed his eyes on her fingernail, following it with his eyes as it moved. Lily giggled.

"Hello there, little puff. What's your name?"

The strangely orange puffy creature cocked its head and squeaked. It performed a surprisingly impressive backflip and rolled to the bottom of the cage. Lily looked down, following its movement, and read the sign on the bottom of the cage, "Pygmy Puffs, six sickles," it said.

"Oh! So that's what you are. I've never seen one of you before," she tried out the name, "Pygmy Puff. Kinda like a Pygmy elephant. Have you ever seen a Pygmy elephant?" The puff, seeming to find her interesting, squeaked four times and rolled around some more. Lily giggled again, "You're so cute! You're the cutest thing I've ever seen, and that includes my brother's owl. I just want to take you home with me and hug you till you're all hugged out."

Her attention was now totally focused on the Pygmy Puff and its cute little antics, so she didn't see that her mother had come back and was standing at a distance, watching her daughter. She looked nostalgic, sad almost. Ginny was remembering when she had been a chit of a girl, like her daughter was now.

Life had been good when she was a girl, or at least it had been until she had reached the end of her first year at Hogwarts. That innocence which she had had was torn away from her as soon as Tom Riddle had marked her as his. As far as she was concerned, possession was one of the worst things to happen to a person. She didn't want the same thing to happen to sweet Lily, ever.

Ginny came over to where Lily was giggling at the puff's antics, which now included twirling around and bumping into other puffs. They didn't seem to mind.

"You know, I had one of these when I was a girl," she said, crouching down next to her daughter and smiling along with her.

"Oh mummy, I want one too! Look at that one!" she pointed to the violently orange puff. "It chose me because it knows I would give it a good home."

"You're in no position to be offering anyone lodgings."

"I'd take really good care of it!"

"I got mine when I was at the grand age of fifteen. Maybe you want to wait, get something else. It takes a lot of work to take good care of a pet. What do you say about getting an ice cream?" Ginny remembered the turmoil she'd been going through when she got Arnold; the memories might be too much for her to come home to every night. Anyway, there was something inherently naughty about pygmy puffs and the effect they had on people. This was a joke shop, after all.

"No, I want it now! Please mummy, I promise I'll take care of it!" for a moment Lily abandoned her adoration of the puff and fixed her large brown eyes on her mother. This had an immediate effect on Ginny, rendering her powerless.

"Whatever you want, Lils," she kissed her on the forehead. "Now go ask that nice saleslady for help before I change my mind. I may be agreeing to this, but the responsibility is all yours."

"Yay!" Lily grabbed her pouch of money and dashed over to one of the women in magenta robes.

Ginny stared after her, not sure if she was happy or sad. On one hand, her daughter seemed to want this, but on the other, who knew how long it would last? At least she wasn't a teenager yet. She shuddered at the memory of her own teenage years. 'Treasure this while it still lasts. In a few years Lily will stop obsessing about things and start obsessing about people. That would be fine, except you can't buy people. Not with all the gold in the world.'

'We'll just have to see about that,' Ginny thought, 'after all, Harry has most of the gold in the world.'

Today Pygmy Puffs, tomorrow the world. Lily would get it all.

)O(

_Fin_


	2. Chaser

_A/N: So, this one is about Ron with the prompt 'chaser' for this competition, athletic!Ron for the Character Trait! Boot Camp, and 'wisdom' for the Family Boot Camp. Here the broom shed is used as the safe place when playing tag._

_Summary: Ron and Hermione take Rose out to play tag, but thing don't go according to plan. _

_Enjoy!_

)O(

"I'm gonna get you!"

In the field behind the Burrow where Quidditch was usually played by the Weasley children, there now stood Ron, a childishly excited look on his face. Behind him, Hermione and Rose were furiously trying to run away towards the old broom shed. They were inconvenienced by the fact that Rose, who was now a sprightly three years old, was stubborn as an ox and didn't want any help in running. She repeatedly tripped over and screamed whenever Hermione tried to help her up. Finally, Hermione lost all hope in getting to the shed in time and walked along her daughter, trying to motivate her to go faster.

"Come on Rosie; let's see if we can win against daddy! Who's the fastest?"

In the meantime, Ron had adopted the look of a lion that's just spotted easy prey. He sprinted over to his wife and daughter and tapped them on the arm.

"You're it!" he shouted, not stopping in his race to get to the shed first. He could already feel the warm glow that would come with an easy victory in _this_ game. No one could ever catch the untouchable Ronald Weasley, champion of the grand game of tag. He was just too damn fast.

Hermione stared after her husband. Ever since they'd started to play with Rose as if she was a child, not a baby, he'd lost most of his hard-gotten maturity. The Ron that was running off into the distance looked more like a twelve-year old than a grown man.

"Ron! What do you think you're doing?" she shouted after him.

"What I do best. Win!" he stopped, and, seeing that his wife and daughter were far away enough for his position to not be threatened, jogged on the spot.

"Oh please," Hermione, exasperated, glared at him.

Now that she had been forgotten about, Rose put some more speed in her toddling. Seeing that his daughter was advancing on him, Ron's competitive instinct kicked in.

"I'm sorry my dear, can't waste time chatting," he grinned like a schoolboy and ran down to the shed, touching it, "safe! Can't tag me now!"

Rose burst out crying and fell down in the grass as Ron performed a little victory dance.

"Ron! Of all the insensitive-," she started, but was drowned out by Ron, who had now started to sing, badly.

"Can't touch this! You can't touch this!"

"RON!"

"What is it darling? I suppose you can't accept the fact that I beat you at something, eh?"

Hermione shot him an angry look and crouched down next to Rose, comforting her, before she replied.

"Come here," she said, "and don't bother refusing because we're far away from the Burrow and I've still got my wand."

"All right, keep your hair on," he walked over to Hermione and sat down opposite her.

"Look," Hermione directed his eyes towards Rose.

"Your daughter is crying her eyes out because she's just been beaten at a game. A pointless, trivial game, but she's still sad. Now, if this was anyone but a child that was crying, I'd say they should grow up," she looked at Ron, "there is no excuse for making a child cry unless the act of crying is less damaging than what the child wants."

"Have you been reading parenting books again?"

"Actually, I've been talking to your mother. She's worried about you, and so am I. Ever since you lost your job, you've been acting...crazy. You need to get yourself back together, because I don't know how long I can go on living with you if you're acting like this. No-one likes a sore winner, and acting superior in front of kids only undermines you more."

Ron sighed heavily. _Bloody hell, I thought I was doing all right. Isn't the point of playing a game winning?_ He said, "I was just trying to show Rosie that you have to work to get what you want. She'll never win a game of tag if she doesn't run more quickly."

"She doesn't have to learn that lesson yet. For Merlin's sake, she's only three! She can barely walk."

"The rest of world isn't as understanding as you are, 'Mione."

"Oh, just stop. There's no need to take out your feelings towards the Ministry at Rose."

"I'm just trying to teach her some important stuff!"

"Fine, if you're going to take that tone with me, I might as well just take her home, seeing as her father won't play nicely. Rose? Rosie?" Hermione noticed that the space in front of her was empty bar her husband.

"She must've wandered off when you were busy staring into my beautiful eyes," Ron said helpfully.

"DON'T try to pin this on me," Hermione stood up and surveyed the area, searching for any sign of her daughter.

"It was you who started this conversation," said Ron.

"But I was not the cause of it."

"I'm not even going to pretend to know what that means," Ron shook his head, then gasped, "look!"

By the old broom shed could be seen a small figure, sitting on the grass and watching her parents. When she saw that they were looking back at her, Rose stood up and hugged the wall with all her might, as if she was afraid they would pull her off it.

Ron chuckled, "aw, looks like little Rosie can take care of herself. She'll soon be winning the races."

"Hey Ron," Hermione glanced at him, a sudden sly smile appearing on her face, "you remember that we're still playing, don't you?"

A look of horrified realisation crossed Ron's face, but it was too late. Hermione had already tagged him, shrieking, and was running off into the direction of the shed. Ron growled and, vowing vengeance, sprinted after her. His much-exercised muscles allowed him to catch up to his wife in the space of a few seconds, whereupon he threw himself at her, making them both fall to the ground. They tumbled down a steep hill, clutching at each other, to end up at their daughter's feet.

Rose looked down at her dishevelled parents in distain. '_They really should know better than to get tagged so easily,_' she thought, _'they'll lose the game before they even start playing.'_

)O(

_Fin_


	3. Funeral

_A/N: Written for the prompt 'funeral' with the character of Fred for this competition, as well as 'intimate' for the Family Boot Camp._

_Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, the collective conciousness of those who died attend their mass funeral before moving on to...wherever the dead go._

)O(

We are the dead.

We had our time cut short, as a carrot with a knife, all in the space of a few hours. We spent out last few minutes oblivious of each other, all fighting for our lives. We weren't sure exactly what We were fighting for, but we knew We had no choice. It was either fight or die.

In this place, We are destined to stay, if only for the ceremony that will break our binds to the world of the living. After the battle, those who remained planned a funeral. It would be too difficult to give each body a separate ceremony, they said. It would be easier to get it over and done with in one fell swoop.

At this funeral, We can see the living bow their heads and feel them remember Us. Some of them are sobbing, moaning, and some are completely silent. They burn Our old bodies on the ground where they stopped showing signs of life. In the centre of Hogwarts, that old, demolished castle, We are laid to rest. Fitting, don't you think? The castle where we died is dying with us.

A part of us, 'Fred', moves and searches for his family. They are standing at the very edge of the fire, almost getting singed. One of the men, known as...George?, is looking into the depths of the flame, imploringly. We think he is looking for that part of us, that part that once had red hair. We can feel 'Fred' pushing, trying to get to him. It's almost as if 'Fred's' soul is still connected to the man. Odd.

We can feel 'Fred' pushing and pulling with more vigour now, as if he wants to separate from Us. This is really quite foolish; doesn't he know that anyone who stays behind after the pleasantries have been completed is doomed to stay here forever? There is not a ghost in the world who has not regretted his actions and wished to move on like the rest of us. Most of them can only do so after great effort on their part, and years of unrewarded toil.

As 'George' looks away from the fire and turns his back to it, we can feel 'Fred's' strength ebbing away. Good. He is starting to accept what he is.

It is very intimate in here. We do not discriminate between the good and the bad, so any soul in this mass of souls can rub spirits with their former 'enemy' and not feel any the worse for it. We can learn from each other. Even now, 'Fred' is telling the rest of Us about his connection to this place. Soon, each of Us will know everything there is to know about Ourselves, and when that happens, we will be free.

The fire is starting to die down. The living are dispersing, going back to their daily lives. A ray of sun can be seen over the horizon. We will soon be gone to that land where everything can be anything, where something can be nothing. No longer do our ranks include 'Tonks', 'Lupin', 'Fred', 'Bellatrix', and countless others...We are as one, connected totally.

We are the dead, but really, death is not much different from life. If one is in one state, one cannot imagine being in the other. After all, the dead have lives too.

'Fred' will soon be feeling better.

)O(

_Fin_

_If you've taken the time to read this, maybe you can spare a few minutes and review?_


	4. Brick Wall

_This one is about Percy with the title 'Brick Wall'. Also written for the Family Boot Camp with 'disposition' and for the Minor Character Boot Camp with 'pillow'._

_Summary: Percy is desperate to get away from his family and into the welcoming arms of the Ministry of Magic. Set during PoA._

)O(

Maybe today will be the day that people see me for who I really am.

Maybe today an owl will come from the Ministry, asking for my urgent arrival. Maybe today the Minister will read my report on 'The Wholly Inappropriate Use Of Wands In The Pursuit Of Carnal Pleasure And How This Affects The Ministry's Reputation' and be so impressed by it that he grants me the position of his under-secretary! Great things may be just around the corner.

I am dwelling happily on these thoughts, gazing out the window of my room, when I hear feet pounding the stairs yet again. It's as if my brothers are trying to disadvantage me. They must be jealous of my growing reputation at the Ministry. Who wouldn't be?

When I came around to the Department of International Magical Cooperation last week to meet with Mr Barty Crouch (a man of such fine attire and breeding that I am sure is responsible for all the Ministry's successes), he told me the way to attaining power is all in one's disposition.

"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power," he had told me, staring into my eyes. I had felt slightly disconcerted by his searching gaze, but replied, "I can take any power that is bestowed on me, however great."

I must have passed his test, because he had looked away and said, "maybe one day we can test that." I'm hoping that this means what I think it means. Just in case, I have adopted his wise words as my motto, and do my best to follow them.

For all my attempts to secure a permanent place in the Ministry, I seem to be constantly hitting a brick wall (not the one at King's Cross, but a solid, opposing one). Whenever something starts going well, a problem arises and my hard-won success is lost. For one thing, I'm amazed that anything gets done in this house with people THUNDERING UP AND DOWN THE STAIRS ALL THE BLOODY TIME! Do my brothers really have nothing else to do but annoy me? Well, with their grades, I suppose not, but for Merlin's sake they might at least try doing something constructive every once in a while.

I sigh and return to the paper in front of me. Enough of these idle thoughts, they're doing absolutely nothing to help me. My time would be better spent in reviewing my new report, one that has to be finished by morning. I will have to wade through the stacks of information the Ministry has sent me, searching for minute details relevant to my topic. It's tedious work, but someone has to do it.

)O(

Seven hours and countless alarm bell charms later, I am finished. I gaze triumphantly at my finished report, all polished and ready to be sent off. It really is a marvellous bit of work; I wouldn't be surprised if it won the Gadygurger Award for Best Investigative Piece! I barely have time to attach it to Hermes' leg before I fall flat on my bed. Mmm...there is only one thing more lovely than Mr Crouch's approval at this moment: sleep. I surrender myself to it, comfortable in the knowledge that the morning will hold no regrets.

)O(

I waken to the sounds of shrieks coming from downstairs. I can't help feeling, yet again, that my family has absolutely no respect towards my work. If they did they would allow me to rest in peace, not put on a display made to annoy even the mildest of men. Anyone who has a desire to showcase their happiness at this ungodly hour should be treated to a few minutes with a Dementor. Maybe then they'd understand what the rest of us feel like.

I try to block out the sounds with a pillow around my ears, but to no avail. My family's cries are so high-pitched, I doubt anything less than a wall of mattresses could block them.

In fact, they are so high-pitched that they lead me to think, what if something has actually happened? What if someone is in trouble? Maybe it's something to do with Sirius Black; maybe he's been caught!

Just in case this is the case, I stand up hurriedly. When the lights start flashing before my eyes, I sit back down. Going down to breakfast will have to wait until I've regained my faculties.

Suddenly, the door to my room bursts wide open and my mother, of all people, walks in.

"Has anything happened?" I ask somewhat blearily.

Instead of answering, she shrieks and crosses to room to hug me. Tightly. So tightly as to restrict airflow to my lungs. I pry myself away and say, "well?"

"Oh, Perce! This came for you with today's post. My little boy is growing up!" she hands me an envelope addressed to me, and yet open ("your brothers got to it before I could give it to you"). A rush of exhilaration runs through me as I see that it's from the Ministry, and I take the letter out carefully.

'Dear Mr Weasley' it reads,

'I am pleased to inform you that there is a vacancy in my office for an assistant and that after our last meeting, I would like to offer you the job. Your duties would include…'

This is all I need to read. Once I have a place in Mr Crouch's office, nothing can stop me.

Today an assistant, tomorrow a Minister.

There is nothing I can't do with the power of the Ministry behind me.

)O(

_Fin_


	5. Better to have loved and lost

_A/N: Written about Charlie with 'better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'. Also written for the Family Boot Camp with 'snow' and for the Minor Characters Boot Camp with 'funeral'._

_Summary: People sometimes wonder who it is that Charlie really loves. What happens when the one who he loves most of all dies?_

)O(

He stood in the snow, a dark, solitary figure in a land of blinding whiteness. The ground all around him was empty of features; those features had been replaced by a blanket of deadly, unforgiving snow. It sickened him to think that something so pure-looking could be so...cold-hearted. The snow did not discriminate between those things which it killed; it did not feel sorrow for the death it was spreading with every second that passed.

He stood in the snow in front of a spectacle that would have sent a lesser man running. An enormous beast of a dragon, black as the night, was lying on its belly, never to fly again. The sight it offered was one of grandness gone weak. One of its wings was torn, its scales did not shine and glimmer like they used to. The huge head which used to flame at the slightest danger lay upon the ground, deadly mouth closed forever. The eyes which would once burn bright with the light of a beast of the wild were dull and milky.

Charlie stared at the fallen creature, trying to not shed a tear. It was proving difficult; he felt the freezing wind goading him on, daring him to cry so that it could freeze the tear upon his cheek just as it had frozen the blood of the dragon. The cold would not be content with one great death on its hands, no, it would kill anything that dared venture outside.

Another man stepped next to Charlie, staring at the dragon with the same lost look in his eyes.

"She was a great girl, that Grizelda. Pity she...well, I don't suppose it needs saying. I know how much you loved her. May I offer my sincere condolences-"

"Don't," Charlie's voice was sharp and bitter. He was still dwelling on the memories of his and Zelda's time together. _Why did it have to end so abruptly? _he thought.

"Man, listen to me. You know what they say at funerals? 'It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.' You think about that while you're freezing your feet off, then tell me if it was worth it. There's no need to let another life be taken just because you thought the last one was so precious."

"Whoever said anything about me taking my own life? Is it not my own; can I not do with it what I see fit?"

"No, man. You've gotta remember: dragons will come and go, but that doesn't mean you can't love them. Heck, we all have one that a little more special than the others. It's the absence of something that tells you how much you loved it, and love tells you how much it was worth. We need you, man. The other dragons need you too."

Charlie failed to acknowledge his friend's words as wise ones, but continued to stare ahead at the crumpled beast before him.

"Come on, let's get this funeral over and done with," the other man said. "Here, why don't you do the honours," he nodded towards Charlie's wand, "give her a proper send-off."

The stoic Weasley took out his wand (_it's only a weak piece of wood. I could break it in one movement) _and performed a complicated set of twirls with it. As soon as he lowered it, the great mass before the men caught fire, suddenly. Flames licked the scales of the dragon, the hide that would have been prized had it been found in a shop. The heat of the fire did battle with the snow, melting all around.

)O(

After the flames died away and a new dawn had time to break, there was nothing to distinguish that patch of snow (_final resting place) _from any other.

The snow takes everything. It covers mistakes as if they had never happened; it smooths over the cracks in life. It is indiscriminate in its doings just like any good serial killer. It has no heart for the people it has hurt.

The snow can be a blessing and a curse, as Charlie has now learned. He is lying in the snow, eyes closed, spread out as if he was making a snow angel.

Soon, the snow will cover up his mistakes too. Soon, Charlie will have nothing more to worry about but beautiful, pure, blinding oblivion.

His angel is coming.

)O(

_Fin_


	6. Graduate

_A/N: This drabble was written with the prompt 'graduate' and the character George. Also written for the Twenty Minute Drabble Challenge, the Minor Character Boot Camp with 'mischief' and the Character Trait! Boot Camp with paranoid!George._

_Summary: When Fred and George are getting ready to set off the fireworks to mark their departure from Hogwarts and annoy Umbridge into the bargain, George starts getting some very unhelpful feelings about the matter._

)O(

"Ready to go, George?" Fred grins as stands up, eager to get on with the mischief.

"Yeah. Just give me a minute." George glances over the pile of readied fireworks, as if to make sure they are all still there. The twins' grand plan for wreaking havoc at Hogwarts had been planned to the smallest detail, but George still has a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that something isn't right.

He stares a bit more at the fireworks, then looks back at his brother.

"I guess we'll never graduate, eh?" he asks.

"Where did that one come from?" Fred turns around sharply, looking at his brother in disbelief. "I thought we'd agreed that trivial things like a diploma didn't matter in the grand scheme of things."

"I just wonder what it would be like if we did. If our lives would be any different..." George's voice lacks conviction, his eyes failing to meet his brother's.

"You can bet on it that our lives would be different; they'd be bloody boring! Can you imagine us, the famed jokers of Hogwarts, cooped up in some dingy old office? We'd die of boredom before our first week was up."

"But what if the joke shop doesn't work out? People are more worried than ever about You-Know-Who and it might be...tacky."

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Fred grabs George by the shoulders and shakes him with a look of mock horror on his face. "Snap out of this before I'm forced to do something drastic. I don't think George's body would take kindly to having a firework blow up in his face."

George, surprised by this sudden show of force, looks flabbergasted before he breaks into a wide, ear-to-ear kind of grin.

"Thanks for reminding me of the strength of our arsenal; I think you've managed to scare away the intruder. Now that that paranoid bugger has gone, I think I'm ready to break some stuff. Hurry up with the fireworks, we haven't got all day!" He whips out his wand and point it at the box of joke shop products. "Open the door, or else all hell will break loose in here. We wouldn't want to waste a precious opportunity to annoy Umbridge, now, would we?"

Fred obliges, and soon the castle is full of whirling wheels and loud with the sound of firecrackers.

When the twins are speeding off on their brooms, George gets back the feeling he had hours before, except now, it's clearer. He can feel a door closing, a whole part of his life ending, never to be returned to. But sometimes a door must close before a world can be opened.

That doesn't change the fact that it unsettles him.

)O(

_Fin_

_Reviews always make me happy._


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